


Bubblegum syrup

by LaughingMcNugget



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, I wrote a drunk story while drunk so here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingMcNugget/pseuds/LaughingMcNugget
Summary: Its been months since the institute was overtaken by a new leader. Arthur maxson, the commanding officer of the most prominent faction innthe Commonwealth, has been summoned to talk peace with said new leader. Stress induced drinking leads to one thing and another. Its smut, guys, its not that deep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to portray a very drunken style of thinking with this work, so its a little choppy and a little heavy with the word 'like'. Personally i enjoyed writing it.

A friendly drunk, that’s what people called him when he mingled with the rabble. For someone with such forced seriousness, he was quite nice company after a few drinks. Being Elder made it… difficult to open up to others, and as such most of his underlings thought him little more than a figurehead made to give inspirational speeches. Honestly, he could have recorded one of his many pep talks and put a coat on a mannequin, chances are his underlings wouldn’t have noticed, the blind bastards they were. All of them, numbly obeying him regardless of what utter bullshit he spewed (and he was well aware he spewed some bullshit. Last time he ever made a speech while drunk). As long as its violent, those soldiers would follow any order he gave. He felt a little alone at times, when his soldiers would sidle up beside each other, make lewd jokes about that one chick they ‘totally banged senseless’ or tell stories about their childhoods over beers with their friends.

  
He wanted to make lewd jokes too.

  
He had quite a few that were hilarious.

He just needed someone to unwind with. 

  
Especially when he’d gotten the message from the new head of the Institute, wanting to talk about peace. He needed someone to drink with and talk to!

But he was Elder Maxson, with a soul forged in steel, and on the Prydwen he was an untouchable God among men. In this bar in Goodneighbor, however, he was Arty, the mechanical engineer with the crappy old suit of power armor and the scar he got while cooking with his mother. It felt good to be Arty, as Arty had friends here, drifter friends, but friends. In truth he hadn’t believed in the violence against “nonhumans” for a while. When it came down to it, he’d interact with a super mutant who wouldn’t eat him, just because he was starved for attention.

  
And maybe a few glasses deeper than he should be.

  
However, when a dark cloaked drink of water with berry red - berry red - hair and caramel cream skin sidled up the stool beside him, he decided he could handle a few more drinks. White Chapel Charlie twirled around in the way that those hovering robots did, and faced the woman.

  
“You again. You have any luck with that son of yours?” he made idle small talk with the woman while gathering the things she liked in her drink: tarberries, boiled bubblegum syrup (his special recipe), and vodka.

  
She stated something about her ‘usual’ in a tired voice, a hand covering what was most likely a very lovely face “its a long story Charlie. But long story short, he isn’t my son and I put a-“ she hiccupped, already drunken, and it was a Goddamn squeaky one “-Bullet in his fucked up brain.”

  
Maxson felt oddly sad for the woman, she was obviously upset. Maybe he should tell her one of those lewd jokes. Or not, he wasn’t drunk enough, just yet, to think for more than a few seconds that telling a grieving woman a lewd joke was a good idea. Especially one who looked like she’d popped out of a fresh comic book with that weird colored, half shaven hair.

The incognito Elder decided to, rather wisely, ask her what happened “I’m gonna be here a while. So if you need to spill that long story, you’ve got your audience.”

  
She looked at him, slowly, like she was one of those girls in a porno that he TOTALLY didn’t watch.

  
Not at all.

  
He got laid like all the time.

  
All the time. No wanking because he was lonely and horny. Nope.

  
Her eyes were… weird. Kinda brown-gold, but also this murky green on the inside by the pupils. They looked like the gold fliplighter he loved so much, but like, when he dropped it in that glowing green puddle. He really shouldn’t have picked it up, he’s still got the scar on his pointer and thumb from the radiation burn. The week his hand was healing made jacking off really hard.

  
It’s a good thing that he got laid, like, all the time.

  
And absolutely didn’t have videos.

  
Yeah.

  
“I don’t want to-“ he trailed off for a moment, eyes going a little cross as he tried to focus his bleary vision on her face “-to sound creepy. But I know a lot of people who could do with letting things of their chest-“ Danse “-and you look like one of them.”

  
She smiled at him, small but bright like. Wow. She looked shiny, it almost made his head hurt. He was squinting at her when she snapped her gaze to the huge fucking pitcher put in front of her. Mushed Tarberries floated in a strangely pink liquid, a few cubes of ice floating between the crushed fruit. With two small fingers, she plucked out a berry and popped it in her mouth, sucking in her bottom lip to get a bit of the berry juice that had dribbled out when she bit down.

  
Man, what he wouldn’t give to be a berry right now.

  
She sighed, and looked back at him “Names ’69, pleased to meet you.” She offered a shaky hand towards him.

  
Maxson smiled in a drunken boyish way “Kinky. Arty, and the pleasure-“ he took her surprisingly soft hand in his own, and lifted it to his lips in a very gentlemanly and smooth as FUCK kiss “-is all mine.”

  
She SNORTED when she laughed and damn it was adorable, oh my god. Maxson found himself looking at her a little sappily, until she plucked another half crushed berry from her giant ass drink and popped it in her mouth, this time catching the errant juices with a little flick of her tongue over her lower lip. If she liked licking up juice she’d _love_ -  
For FUCKS sake she just downed a quarter of the pitcher. That’s like half a bottle of booze she took in maybe 5 seconds oh my god.

  
“You really want to hear my story?” her voice was wobbly, like, both shaky sad like it had been, but she was quite obviously tipsy.

  
Maxson was hung on her pinky finger, elbow on the counter and a cheek smushed into his palm as he waited on her every word “Mmhmm.”

  
The lady with the strange hair color smiled at him, eyes doing the crossing thing His had done only a few minutes ago “So, it turns out.-“she hiccupped again “-I’m a fucking Courser. And not just any Courser, I’m the Captain I guess?”

  
She ended the sentence like she wanted him to answer it, like she wasn’t sure of what she just said.

  
“That a bad thing? Coursers are built tough. I don’t know if you are though, you’ve got this..-“dazzling personality, flawless smile, fire in your eyes that burns my very core “-lack of a rod up your ass.” _Nailed it._

  
She laughed that snorting laugh again, reaching out and clapping him on the shoulder “Astute observation Arty, I’m glad I lack said rod. I met-“ she giggled into her fist “-I met this guy once. Total babe, almost as good looking as you, something Dance? I don’t know. Had a rod shoved so far up his ass I’m surprised he wasn’t choking on it."

  
“Paladin Danse?”

  
“Yes oh my god you know him?”

  
“I do and you are absolutely right. Fucker needs to lighten up.”

  
She leaned in, hand poised like she were about to gossip, and the devious smirk said she was, in fact, about to do so.  
“Do you know Rhys too?”

  
“Danse’s pet asshole?”

  
She laughed, accidentally leaning in too far and bumping their foreheads together. That isn’t to say they didn’t move away once it happened, the just leaned against each other and chatted like old ninnies

  
“Oh my god you do. How can a man survive with a rod shoved so far up his ass?” she had a conspiratorial tone about her voice and whispered as though she were afraid of speaking about him too loudly would summon him out of thin air.

  
Maxson felt himself get a little apprehensive. If anyone could detect someone calling them an asshole from miles away, it was that douchecanoe.

  
“Damn, I was telling a story… wasn’t I?” she sounded so shy when she was confused.

  
By god did he hope she was like that in bed.  
Feeling a bit cheeky, Arthur tilted his jaw forward and kissed her on the nose “Yeah. I don’t mind if you’re not up for sharing.”

  
She smiled darkly at the kiss, eyes narrowing on him dangerously “I can think of other things I’d like to do.”

  
Woah. Very dominant.

  
Very.

  
Very.

  
Sexy too.

  
He didn’t realize he’d squeaked- _squeaked_ \- excitedly until she laughed at the sound, and let her hand slip up his thigh.

  
“if you want to help me finish this, I’ve got a room at Hotel Rexford I wouldn’t mind sharing.” With that, she dared to lean forward and kiss him on the lower lip, one hand coming to rest over the scar on his cheek.

  
She pulled away entirely too quickly for the young Elder, and left him licking a bit of the berry cocktail from his lips.

  
“Very sweet.” He took hold of the pitcher and took a mouthful, immediately being flooded with excessive amounts of sugar and sweetness.

  
The drink was like candy, and he almost didn’t want to swallow so he could taste it a bit longer. She laughed at the look of his full cheeks, and the slightly dreamy glaze over his sky blue eyes.

  
“Good, huh? Nobody makes it like Charlie.” She took the pitcher in her own grasp, and downed another quarter, leaving a little over a cup left after the swig he took.

  
Suddenly it was apparent that he’d had too much to drink, as his head felt like it was spinning “Oh damn. That was a lot of booze.”  
Something pricked him in the arm, and spread warmth throughout his body. His head felt noticeably better.

  
“What’d ya do?” however, it did not take away the fact that he sounded ass over tits drunk.

  
Ass over tits.

  
_Hehe_.

  
“Stimpack, Arty.” With the short answer, she stood, and he toppled, face first, into her chest.

  
Fucking score.

  
She smelled so damn clean, how did anyone in the Commonwealth smell that damn clean?

  
Courser.

  
Oh yeah.

  
Oh well.

  
Boobs.

  
Maxson let out a half-giggle half-groan “Your jacket offends me. You should get rid of it.”

  
“Oh my god. Charlie, can you out the rest of that on ice? This poor man is going to explode if I don’t get him out of his pants ASAP.”

  
The Mr. Handy groaned, fetching the pitcher and the sack of 300 caps she’d left on the counter sometime.  
The odd pair stumbled out, wobbling up the steps and bumping into each other as they teetered. Maxson found himself loving and hating the Courser uniform she wore, as the jacket hid her ‘assets’ but when it shifted out of the way, the jumpsuit that hugged her bountiful bottom was proof there was a God. Er, well she was a synth. He had to shake hands with whoever designed that ass. Somehow she was still steady enough on her feet to run a bit, and of course, he had to chase her, giggling boyishly, arms out and ready to snatch her up. They played the little game all throughout the courtyard; she’d dart, he’d chase, she’d stumble, he’d catch, she’d wriggle out of his grip and it would start all over again. It only ended when she’d leaned up against the hotel’s exterior wall, and he’d ended up sprawled on the ground in front of her.

  
He was still giggling, face against the pavement and broad shoulders twitching with his breathing “You’re fun.”

  
Fuck he was lonely. He was only 20 after all. He needed some Goddamn friends.  
He found himself being hauled up by two deceptively strong arms around his chest. Man, it was weird to be held up by someone so squishy and soft and warm. At the same time it was the best feeling ever. Maybe he should just fall over again, and ask her to pick him up just so he can be held.  
Why was he outside the hotel again?

  
Oh, yeah.

  
He was standing up now.

  
She laughed at how eager he was, as he somehow managed to walk backwards into the hotel, hands holding hers and leading her in as though they were about to dance. Because as soon as they were alone they would most definitely dance. He’d made it halfway up the stairs when she took the lead, all but dragging him behind her as they rounded the corner and headed down the hallway towards her room. Maxson was pretty sure he wasn’t even walking-or stumbling-but floating when he heard the door click behind him. He was suddenly back on the rickety bed, hands pinned at the wrist and a sweet flavored mouth nipping and licking his lips. He moaned into the messy kiss, and shook one hand loose, grabbing that round bottom and giving it a squeeze. She squeaked, and this time he got to laugh at the noise. Laugh he did, laugh while she ground down on his -what was the term he though was hilarious?- baloney pony.

  
Haha.

  
What even is baloney?

  
She twitched her hips a different way and earned a moaned “Fuck!” in her ear.

  
“You like that? Lets get you out of those jeans and I’ll treat you even better.”

  
God, he’d all but melted into a puddle at the purr in her throat. With a huff, he rolled over, and stood up, hands working furiously at the zipper on his jeans. He was about five seconds into fiddling with the snap when ripping the damn things off started to sound like a viable option. That is, until her hands were around the snap, each dainty finger of one hand working to push the snap through the fabric, the other brimming the hem of his shorts and stroking the heated flesh below. Finally-finally- the snap came undone, and Maxson tripped over himself trying to get the tangle of denim off his legs. They caught around the knees, and he stumbled forward to catch himself, dragging her down with him.

  
Who needed a bed anyways?

  
One thick but wobbly arm kept him from smushing her flat, the other hand fumbling with the zipper by her collar. She wriggled out of her coat, scooting downwards until she was free of the fabric, and nose to tip with a very happy bulge. Her hands were about his waistband immediately, tugging down his shorts and revealing him in full. It was almost embarrassing for the young elder, hardly even being undressed and having a thick drop of precum slicked over the head. It seemed highly unattractive to him, and he’d hoped, a little late, that she wouldn’t mock him for his eagerness. Mock him she did not, ‘69 tilted her head back and- _god_ -licked the bead of lubricant away. She spent the next few seconds placing fluttery kisses up and down his length, tongue darting out every now and again to scandalize what may have been a very loving action otherwise. A groan sounded above her, and the synth tilted her head back to see he’d propped himself up with both hands, and his intense blue eyes were but a ring around the black of his pupils.

  
“Bed. Now.”

  
He wasn’t usually one to follow orders, but no sooner had she said it than did he grab the edge of the bedframe, pants still a mess about his knees, and started pulling himself up. He was about halfway to crawling up the bed when a resounding ‘smack!’ disturbed the breathy silence. About a second later he was acutely aware that his bottom, the left cheek, was stinging.

  
“Did you just..?”

  
He stopped his question when he felt something like claws-goddamn claws-prodding at the sore spot on his bottom.

  
“I said on the bed.”

  
Unf.

  
Yes Ma’am.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I never actually finisbed this, but I haven't posted in a while soooooo


End file.
